Parallel History
by Toris-96
Summary: Historical events may remain the same in the Parallel Universe, but the impact was always different… Shots of the 2P history. (Certain pairings of you squint really hard) (Rated M for language, violence, and war themes.)(Discontinued)
1. Arrivederci

**Hello everyone! This is going to be a series of shots of 2P history. 1Ps may or may not be mentioned, but they will not be seen. I am planning on not having any pairings that is outside of canon, and the events in the chapters won't be in chronological order.**

 **I will be using headcanon human names (at times), but I will but a key on who is who at the top of the chapter to make it easier.**

 **I am not portraying the 2Ps as psychopaths.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Key:**

 **Luciano: 2P Italy**

 **Louis: 2P France**

 **Andres: 2P Spain**

 **Flavio: 2P Romano**

* * *

Luciano could vaguely remember when he was actually happy. In his early childhood, he and his brothers would play all the time without a care in the world. In those days, Louis actually smiled, and Andres actually cared… It didn't last long.

His grandfather was a strict, stoic man who, even if he didn't express it, loved him and his brothers. Or so he thought. It seemed that just when they were comfortable, their grandfather changed. The man who took care of them began to abuse them, saying that the abuse would somehow make them stronger.

For the most part, it didn't. Flavio never really changed, in fact, he seemed to smile brighter, as if it would give Luciano and their older brothers comfort. Andres stopped caring, and Louis grew quiet and detached. Luciano, on the other hand, changed for the better. So much so, that he fought back against his grandfather, and even pulled out a knife on him once. His grandfather was furious, and even took him away from his friends and family to " _discipline"_ him. Long, agonizing story short, the Roman Empire eventually fell, and Luciano returned to his brothers for a short time before living with Austria.

Luciano would never admit it, but he did miss his brothers, especially Flavio. Flavio had, for a long time, been the one in Luciano's life that he could tease relentlessly. But, it didn't matter anymore, because it wasn't long before little Luciano found someone else to harass: The Holy Roman Empire.

Holy Rome was scared of him, that much Luciano knew, but he could never figure out why Holy Rome didn't avoid him more effectively. Sure, Luciano was clever, and could probably find him, but the idiot wasn't even trying.

Luciano also didn't understand why he liked teasing Holy Rome so much, and he refused to listen to Austria's dumb words.

 _It's like when a little boy pulls on the hair of a young girl! It means he likes her a lot!_

With those words in his head, Luciano was more frustrated than ever, and needed to find his outlet. Which, strangely, was harder to find than usual. After searching his house, and the whole property, he finally found Holy Rome and the front gates with an army.

Luciano smiled mischievously and pulled out his small knife from his little dress pocket. He sneaked up to the Germanic, and poked him lightly on the shoulder with his knife, applying just enough pressure to to give the other some pain, but not enough to break the skin

Holy Rome spun around with a nervous look, "Luciano! I'm sorry, but I don't have time to play!"

"Why not?" Luciano said in amusement, poking the other boy again.

"W-well, it-it's just that I-I h-have to leave." Holy Rome stammered as he took an uneasy step back.

Luciano narrowed his eyebrows and lowered his knife, "What?" He raised the blade again in a threatening manner, "Why? Explain yourself!"

Holy Rome spoke quickly in panic, "I'm going off into war!"

Luciano lowered his knife back down to his side as he felt a ping of pain in his chest at the words, "What? No! You can't leave!"

"Why?" Holy Rome said in frustration, "It's not like you actually want me around! You hate me! Why else would you threaten me with a knife all the time?"

"It's not like I actually _hurt_ you!" Luciano defended, "And I don't hate you!" He looked at the ground trying to find the word to describe it. "I… I…" He left off the sentence there, feeling as if he was going to cry.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," Holy Rome began, "But I have to go."

The young nation whirled around and went to leave, but Luciano grabbed his wrist in a death grip. Holy Rome turned back and tried the free his hand, "Ow! Luci, let me go!"

Teasing aside, Luciano never really wanted to hurt him, so he softened his hold, "But, you can't leave me!"

Holy Rome sighed, "Trust me, I don't want to leave you either."

That shocked Luciano. All his life, no one really wanted him around, not even his own grandfather.

"But, you know what?" Holy Rome continued, "You can come with me."

Luciano tilted his head, "I-I can?"

Holy Rome nodded, "I know it's a bit ambitious of me to say, but, we could become the biggest empire in the world."

Luciano's eyes narrowed as he took his hand away, "What? How stupid are you?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand." Holy Rome responded in a confused tone.

Luciano raised his voice, "That's exactly what my grandfather did! He expanded and expanded until he was too big and his empire fell apart!"

" _Luci"_

"Don't call me that!" Luciano shouted, "Does anyone ever learn from history? Or am I the only one?"

"Luciano, you have to understa-"

Luciano spun on his heels and marched away, "Go get killed in battle for all I care! If you fall apart, it's because of your own stupidity! Arrivederci!"

He could hear Holy Rome call out for him, but he ignored the Germanic boy. He just marched back to his house as he felt his heart shatter. He wasn't sure what was more painful, Holy Rome leaving, or his own cold words.

He stormed into his house only to hear the stupid Austrian's voice, "Italy, what's wrong?"

Luciano ignored him, and headed to his room.

"Hey!" He heard Hungary hiss, "He asked you a question you brat!"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Luciano yelled as he slammed his bedroom door.

He went over to his bed and broke down. But, he was too young to understand why he was crying.

* * *

 **Don't forget to review! :)**


	2. Someone Else

**Key:**

 **Oliver: 2P England**

 **Allen: 2P America**

 **Matt: 2P Canada**

* * *

Oliver ran through the thick smoke as the sound of muskets and canonfire boomed around him. He hated fighting, always had, and always will. Each war seemed to break his innocence more and more, and sometimes, he wondered if he had any left… Some faked pride, some faked happiness, but he faked innocence. If he had the chance to fake it long enough, he would actually forget all those things that had broken his mind. He would start to feel better, and be happier. Then, like always, another war would start, and resurface those old scars.

Oliver could remember the first time he held a gun. It didn't look too bad, and sure didn't feel like it. The gun was heavy, but the grip suited him, the metal shined in the sunlight, and the wood on it was sturdy and well-carved. Then, he shot it. The horrible bang made his ears ring so loud that he couldn't hear anything else, the target was obliterated, and the kick back sent him to the ground. The shock from it all brought tears to his eyes, and he never wanted to use one again.

But, here he was, on the battlefield, breathing in the gunpowder-tainted air, and slicing people with his bayonet. If there was one thing he hated more than fighting, it was killing, and if there was one thing he hated more than killing, it was himself… He had taken so many lives over the centuries, and the guilt was too much.

 _Hate yourself later,_ Oliver reminded himself.

He jumped over a fallen soldier and kept on moving to his next target. He lunged with a loud grunt, but his attack was blocked by the other man's musket. The man turned his musket so quick that Oliver's flew out of his grip, and before he knew it, the butt of the gun was rushing at him.

Oliver didn't feel the impact, but when he came to, he found himself on the ground. His head was pounding, and he could feel blood trickling through his hair.

 _Get up!_ He told himself, _Get up! You can't lose another battle! Get up!_

Oliver sat up and got to his knees before he realized that he had a gun to his chest. He stared at the faded metal of the barrel before finally looking up. There, standing tall with a furious expression, was Allen.

"A-Allen?" He spoke to get his brother's attention, but it only came out as a fearful whisper.

"Get out of my country." Allen said through grit teeth.

Oliver took a staggering breath and spoke calmly, "Allen, you're a colony."

Allen lost his temper quickly, and began to shout, "Ya think this whole war is because I forgot about that? I WANT MY FREEDOM!"

Oliver flinched at the volume in his brother's voice, "Allen, let's just stop this. Please? Let's be brothers again."

"And then what?" Allen retorted, "Have you repressing my people?"

"Allen, what have I done to you? What did I-"

Allen interrupted him with a rant, "Ya see? This is what you do all the damn time! You act like this saint, but it's all a lie! ' _I love you, Allen,'_ you used to say, ' _You're like a son to me, Allen,'_. Then you would smother me in your 'love' as your soldiers stepped on my people!"

Tears began to roll down Oliver's cheeks, "That's not true! I meant those words! Every time I said them, I meant it!"

Allen laughed, "Ya know what's funny? You're too dumb to realize it! You lied to yourself enough to believe it! When are you gonna come back to reality? After Matt's revolution? I sure don' like 'em, but he ain't stupid enough to stay with you!"

Oliver's tears turned into sobs, "Please, Allen, I haven't anything! I'm a slave to my government!"

Allen shook his head, "What a load of bullshit!"

"Hate my government!" Oliver continued, "But don't hate me!"

"Why not?" Allen questioned with a look of curiosity, "Haven't you noticed that everyone hates you? Do you ever wonder why that is?"

"I know why!" Oliver answered, "My people want land, war and bloodshed! I want none of those things!"

"Then what do you want?"

Oliver's voice raised as it jumped a few octaves, "I want my brother back!"

Allen was silent for a long time as Oliver continued his crying. Then the American grew serious again, "See? There's that saint again."

Oliver's sobs turned into nothing but tears as he lowered his head and stared at the mud. Allen's words weren't true, and they hurt so much. But, Oliver knew that if he wanted Allen back, he would have to ignore his pain, and let Allen realize that he didn't mean the words that he said.

Oliver lifted his head and looked at Allen in the eye again, "Allen, please. You, Matt and I can be happy. We can be a family again."

"Do you want to know what I think?" His brother said in a sad tone.

"What?"

 _Bang!_

Oliver didn't feel the impact, but he felt himself fly, and he felt himself land in the mud… Then he felt unbearable pain.

 _No._ Oliver thought, _No he… He didn't just shoot me… It had to be someone else…_

Oliver unbuttoned and opened up his red coat to see blood covering his white undershirt. He slowly laid his head down into the mud, his vision quickly blurring.

He couldn't believe it. Sure, Allen angry, but he didn't actually hate him enough to shoot him… Right?

Breathing became hard, and Oliver was gasping desperately for air. His vision was gone, but he could still hear the battle.

 _Of course Allen doesn't hate you… He didn't shoot you, it was someone else… It had to be…_

Oliver was a country, and he knew that his death would be temporary, but he hated it so much. He didn't want his mind to go into that nothing while his body painfully healed.

 _It was someone else…_

Oliver tried to cling to life for as long as he could, but it became too hard…

 _Yeah, keep telling yourself that..._


	3. Papa

**Key:**

 **Louis: 2P France**

 **Flavio: 2P Romano**

 **Luciano: 2P Italy**

 **Andres: 2P Spain**

 **Matt: 2P Canada**

* * *

Louis could remember when the world was beautiful to him. He used to sit in the grass and stare at the Irises, touching their beautiful petals with the very tips of his fingers, almost as if anything harsher would kill them. Flavio would sometimes join him. But, the Italian was too young and too impatient, and would pick the flowers out of the ground and bring them up to his nose, declaring that he would put them in a vase full of water in his room. It made Louis cry knowing that they would die within a week, and eventually, he stopped spending time with his blonde brother. He tried to get Luciano to look at the flowers with him, but his youngest brother always lost interest, and Andres only made fun of him, telling him that he needed to "stop being such a girl"... But, Louis couldn't help but watch the leaves shine in the sun, and the butterflies dance in the wind.

That was long ago. And it all changed when his grandfather first struck him. It was a daily routine, and after a while, the beauty in the world faded. The flowers were nothing but false hope, the leaves didn't shine, and the butterflies weren't even acknowledged. That was only the start of it too. Because, not long after the beauty went away, he realized why Rome began the beatings:

He was worthless.

He was nothing.

He _deserved_ those beatings…

Even after Rome's fall, the world was still dull, and he still felt worthless. Now, he was nothing but a tool for war and bloodshed, forced to live a life equal to eternity… And he deserved it.

The child didn't deserve it though. The child that he had been handed when he crossed the Atlantic. Matt was his name. He was a curious boy, he never asked questions, but Louis could see the wonderment in his eyes. The only problem was that Matt wasn't well-behaved. He was at first, but now, he would run off, claiming that he could take care of himself.

 _Why isn't he greatful now? Doesn't he know that his life is going to be hell later?_ Louis asked himself as he traked through the frozen wasteland that was New France.

With a sigh, Louis grumbled something incoherent as he crossed his arms over his chest, trying to keep warm. "Matt!" He called, "I'll make your favorite dinner if you come back!" It was an empty promise, just like all the others he had given to the boy.

Matt was young, and usually not this hard to find, so Louis was beginning to feel… Well, he didn't care about the boy, so he wasn't _worried_ , he was… Irritated. He had looked in all the usual spots, but he hadn't found the four year old. Then, he thought about the waterfalls that Matt was so fond of, and figured that he would check there.

To no real surprise, the boy was sitting at the river bank, not too far from the falls. He was bent over, staring into the water, sniffling. Louis stopped and sighed, "Matt. C'mon, time to go home."

Matt stood and spun around, "No! It's not like you actually _want_ me!"

The boy took off, but with the snow slowing him down, Louis was able to catch up to Matt and grab his wrist effortlessly, "I said, we are going home!" He said firmly.

Matt turned around and tried to wiggle out of the grip, "No! Let me go! You're horrible!"

Louis didn't care what people thought of him, and usually, insults didn't affect him, but that hurt. He could feel anger begin to build up in him as he spoke through his teeth, "I am a blessing compared to what I grew up with, you ungrateful brat!"

Matt's expression of anger turned into pain, "Ow! Stop! That hurts!"

Louis looked down at his hand and realized how tight his grip on Matt's wrist had become. As angry as he was, he never wanted to hurt the boy. He was _not_ going to become his grandfather. He immediately let go of Matt, " _Je suis désolé._ "

Matt took a few steps back and cradled his wrist, looking at the ground with tears in his eyes. He turned his head back to the river, the wind blowing his hair in front of his eyes. After a few short moments of silence, Louis sighed again, "Matt, I'm sorry, I-"

Tears began to roll down Matt's face, "You don't mean that! You don't mean anything you say!" The he ran towards the river, jumped over the rushing water, and landed on a small rock poking out of the water.

For the first time since he could remember, the feeling of fear struck Louis. He moved to the edge of the bank, "Matt! C-come back here! Ri-right now!"

"No!" Matt exclaimed, jumping onto another rock, "You don't even care! You just look after me because it's your job!" The boy continued to jump from rock to rock, slowly moving further into the wide river.

Louis looked down at the river by his feet, debating if he should follow. Finally, he lifted his foot and took a large step to the first stone, which was wet and slippery. Carefully, he continued on, not really sure what was compelling him to follow the boy.

"Matt!" Louis called over the charging river, "Please! Let's just go home!"

The boy only jumped onto the next rock, almost slipping into the water below. Louis chest felt empty as more fear flooded him, "Be careful!" He nagged.

Matt turned around to face him, "Why? You don't care! You just don't want to get in trouble with your boss!"

Matt was right, but why did the boy's words hurt him? Without pondering it further, Louis reached out his hand, "We will talk about this later! It's time to go home!"

Matt didn't respond and turned back around, preparing to jump again. The boy seemed to take a longer time, and when Louis actually looked at the other rock, he realized that it was too far for little Matt to make. Louis gasped, "Matt! Don't! You can't-"

Matt jumped, and fell into the raging river. Instinctively, Louis dove after him.

He tumbled underwater until he finally figured which way was up, and poked his head out of the cold water, gasping for air, "MATT!" He yelled. Water splashed up into his face and went over his head as he desperately tried to look for the boy.

"LOU-"

Louis looked over just in time to see Matt's head go underwater. Louis did his best to swim. The river pulled him under, and made him lose his sense of direction, but Matt kept on yelling out whenever he could, which guided him. Eventually, he made it to the boy. He reached down into the water, grabbed him by the waist, and lifted him. Matt sucked in huge breaths of air as his head came over the water. Relieved, Louis held the boy close, refusing to let the water separate them again.

Then he heard it. The falls. Louis looked over to see what seemed like gallons of water rolling off the edge of the earth. With Matt in one arm, he reached with the other and tried to swim in the opposite direction. But, it didn't matter how hard he kicked his legs, he wasn't strong enough to swim against the current.

Then, he spotted a rock, in arms reach. Before the river could carry him away, he grabbed it with his free hand and pulled himself close to it. "Here," He said breathlessly, lifting Matt, "Up." Matt crawled onto it, coughing up water and panting.

The rock wasn't really big, but it did have enough room for him to sit on. He adjusted his hands on it, and began to pull himself up, but his hand slipped.

Louis couldn't be for sure, but he thought he heard Matt call after him as he went over the falls.

After a while of nothing, Louis felt his body painfully healing.

* * *

Louis' eyes snapped open as he gasped for air. He couldn't feel or move anything, but after his heart and breathing evened, he was able to sit up and look at his surroundings. He was on shore at the bottom of the waterfall. With a sigh, he looked up at the sky to now see stars and a moon. Seems though that his body had taken a while to heal this time.

 _Matt_ , he suddenly remembered, _Where's Matt?_

Louis got up, and immediately started making his way back up to the river, praying that Matt had made it safely to land. After hiking for God knows how long, he came to a lump in the snow that had patches of a fur coat. "Matt!" Louis exclaimed as he ran over. He began to brush the snow off the little boy, who was still soaking wet and barely breathing.

Panicked, Louis shook him, "Matt! Matt! Wake up!" When the boy didn't answer, Louis gave up on waking him. He scooped the boy in his arms, wrapped him in his coat, and ran through the snow, back to their large cabin.

Louis hurried into the shelter, kicking the door close behind him. He laid Matt down by the fireplace before lighting it and running into their rooms to get warm, dry clothes and a towel. After dressing himself, he went back to little Matt. He undressed the boy and dried his body and hair, and put him in a new pair of clothes. Louis went back to his room and got a few blankets and headed back over to the fireplace, grabbing the rocking chair on the way by. He set the chair in front of the fireplace, picked up Matt and sat down. He hugged the boy close, draped the blankets over them, and waited for Matt to come around.

Louis rocked in his chair and rubbed the boy's back, hoping that the warmth would be enough. He didn't understand. Why was he so panicked? The last time he felt like this, he had found an injured rabbit. The poor thing had escaped some other animal, but it was hurt and bloody. Louis' efforts to help the rodent hadn't worked, and it died while he was cleaning it's wounds. He cried for the beautiful creature, and was depressed for days, but he had been a child. He hadn't cared about something, anything like that in a long time… A _very_ long time.

Louis' thought were interrupted when Matt shifted and sighed. Louis gently shook the boy in his arms, "Matt?"

Matt began to shiver as he picked up his head, "I-I'm co-old."

Louis exhaled in relief and rubbed Matt's back faster, "I know, it's alright, it won't last too long."

Matt buried his face into Louis' chest and began to cry, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry I ran away! I'm sorry I said those things!"

"Shh," Louis said softly, "It's alright."

Matt gripped Louis' shirt tightly, "I-I was so sc-ared!"

Louis nodded, "I was too."

There was a long silence as Matt's crying softened and his shivering subsided. Finally, Matt relaxed and whispered, "I love you, Papa."

Louis didn't respond for a long time. Then, without a word, he ran his fingers through the boy's soft, dirty-blonde hair, bowed his head, and kissed Matt on the top of his head.

 _Papa?_

Strangely, he liked the sound of that name.

* * *

 **A bit longer than my other chapters, but I really like this one. I hope it wasn't as sad as the other two.**

 **As always, reviews are appreciated!**


	4. Alone

**Felix: 2P Poland**

 **Torin: 2P Lithunaia**

 **Viktor: 2P Russia**

* * *

Felix wasn't good at fighting.

For a long time now, both he and Torin had been a great power. Together, they had defeated armies and had other countries eating out of the palm of their hands. They were respected and feared, even Prussia, who had the most perfessional army, seemed weary of them.

But, lately, their power had been running out, and Russia knew it.

They were both disarmed, both trying to get back to their weapon, both down to their fists, and Felix quickly realized that he - or Torin, for that matter - didn't have the capability to beat him with brute strength. He couldn't fight him like this, especially when Torin was unconscious in the snow. So Felix stalled. He was a good dodger, and had been ducking and side-stepping for a long time now. His heart was pumping so fast that he couldn't pant enough to keep up with it, his muscles where tired, and his movements began to slow.

 _Don't let him catch you,_ Felix thought, _He's stronger than you, don't let him get a hold of you._

But, it didn't matter what he told himself, he couldn't dodge forever. Viktor was playing this little game long enough for Felix to tire himself out, and by the end of it, Felix knew that.

Too slow now, _way_ too slow. Felix was barely dodging the large Russian's blows, even felt Viktor's fist graze across his chin. It wasn't long until Viktor grabbed him by his uniform. Then, a knee was forced into his stomach, making him fall into the snow. Felix coughed and gasped for air as he looked back up at his enemy. The Russian raised a metal pipe and swung-

* * *

 _Felix let the wind blow his blonde hair into his face. He closed his eyes and breathed in the gentle sent of spring. He laid down in the cool, dewy grass, looking up at the beautiful blue sky and its white clouds. The trees' leaves rustled as they blew in the wind, the birds chirped… All the sounds of the earth… It was beautiful… It was music._

 _It was peaceful. Such a beautiful day. Felix loved these days. He gripped the grass in his hands as he dug his fingernails into the dirt. On days like these, there was no stress, no kings, no economies, no war… No countries. Even he wasn't a country now. He wasn't a freak who lived on for centuries, he was normal… Natural. He laughed quietly at the warm sun as he stretched and took in another inhale of the fresh air._

 _As he relaxed back into the grass, he heard the sound of horse's hooves. He looked over to his right to see Torin riding up to him. The Lithuanian stopped his horse a few meters away and looked down at him, "I've been looking everywhere for you."_

 _Felix smiled at his friend, "What? Where you worried?" He teased._

 _Torin snorted, "Of course not."_

 _Felix chuckled, what a typical response. Torin was a tall, intimidating, and stoic man with endless confidence. He never expressed concern because to him, there was nothing to be concerned about, he had faith in himself and his "ally". That's what he called Felix: "Ally", or "The one I'm united with", but what he really meant was "friend". Torin had once told him why that was. He said that he never got close to anyone, because you always get hurt in the end. Felix, of course told his friend that it was impossible to go through life that way, and if it is possible, it's a sad life to lead._

 _But, Torin cared, weather he expressed it or not, and Felix knew it, and that's all that mattered._

" _Naturally," He responded, looking back to the sky and taking another deep breath, "Why don't you lay down in the grass with me?"_

" _Yes. Love to." Torin said sarcastically._

" _Cone on, don't be so rude about it."_

 _Torin sighed, "Felix, we have things to do."_

 _Felix could feel his heart sink as he closed his eyes, "Like what?"_

" _Battle plans? Remember?" Torin asked in a strange tone, "We have a meeting today? Does any of this ring a bell inside that head of yours?"_

 _Felix sat up in the grass as glared at his friend, "Don't talk like that to me! You_ know _it make me feel stupid! Don't talk to me like I'm some dumb polack!"_

 _Torin pinched at the bridge of his nose, "Felix, I never said that it's just…" He sighed, "This is really important."_

 _Felix softened his expression. Most of it wasn't Torin's fault, the Lithuanian had trouble talking and connecting with people sometimes, and Felix could understand how someone could accidentally insult someone. Felix nodded, accepting the unspoken apology, "I know, but can we do this on a rainy day?"_

" _What?"_

" _I mean," He started, "It's so beautiful out today. Why waste it?"_

" _Becuase I rather be fighting on a day like to day, " Torin explained, "And take a day off during the rain so we aren't fighting in the mud."_

 _Felix could see his view point, but he still shook his head, "A day like today shouldn't be used for bloodshed."_

 _Torin sighed in exasperation, "You're going to be stubborn today, aren't you?"_

 _Felix only nodded._

" _Well, then. I guess I'm off to cancel the meeting."_

" _No!" Felix reached out as if he were close enough to grab the reins of the horse, "Don't go! Stay with me… Sit in the grass with me."_

 _Torin took a long pause as if debating weather or not he should stay. Finally, he slid off his horse and sat down in the grass._

 _The two of them spent all day in comfortable silence._

* * *

Felix groaned and picked up his face out of the snow. Evrything was blurry, and the volume of the world was low. He shook his head and blinked rapidly, trying to get the fogginess out of his head. When his eyesight lined up he saw Toirn and Viktor waking away from him… It only took a moment for Felix to realize what was happening.

"Torin!" Felix yelled, "No! Don't go! Please!"

Torin froze, earning a strange look from the Russian. After a moment, Torin whipered something, and Viktor nodded. Slowly, Torin turned around and walked over. The Lithuaninan looked down his nose at him, "Felix. We can't win this fight."

"You were just going to leave me here?" Felix asked.

Torin ignored the question, "Russia asked me to come with him, and I agreed."

Felix paused in disbelief, "Why?"

"Let's face it," Torin said coldly, "You've run out of power to give me, and Russia is offering me more."

Felix gave a hopeful smile, "You can't just tell me that all you wanted was power."

"Wasn't that the reason we were untied in the first place?" Toin said expressionlessly.

"You don't have to pretend like you don't care, Toin, I-"

Toirn interrupted him, "How many times do I have to tell you so that it'll get through that polack skull of yours that I don't get close to people?"

Tears began to run down Felix's face, "Torin…"

"Good bye, Poland." And with that, Torin turned on his heels and returned to Viktor. Together, the to began to walk away.

Felix began to cry. He hated being alone. Sure, sometimes he ran off to be by himself now and then, but he was never really _alone_. He always had Torin… Or so he thought… To think he had been alone this whole time…

Felix slammed his fists into the snow in anger, "YOU'RE LEADING A SAD LIFE, TORIN!" He screamed after who he thought had been his friend.

Then, he sobbed into the snow.

Alone.

* * *

Author's note:

I actually had a few versions of 2P Poland. The first was a very cranky, moody one, which seemed to go along the lines of some of the things that I had read about other portrayals of him. Another was a very smart one, since the 1P's stereotype was that he was dumb. But, I finally settled on more of a hippy character… Anyways, I hoped you liked him!


	5. Few Words

**Key:**

 **Lutz: 2P Germany**

 **Roland: 2P Austria**

 **Gilen: 2P Prussia**

* * *

It took a while for Lutz to notice the strange looks he got from the other nations. He didn't know why they looked at him with such surprise, for as far as he knew, he hadn't done anything wrong or out of the ordinary. Then again, his memory wasn't the best. He could remember waking up in the middle of nowhere, like most nations. But, unlike most nations, he was physically about eight years old. Older than what most nations started out as.

The problem was that Lutz couldn't remember his younger years, no matter how hard he tried. He knew he had them, he could just feel it. He often stumbled upon things that were too familiar, things that made him go to a different world and close his eyes shut to try to make himself remember why it was so familiar.

He almost did remember a few times. The first time was when he was found. He had been roaming the villages of his land when a man with silver hair and red-purple eyes saved him from the homeless, wandering life that he lead. He had seen this man before, _known_ this man before, but there were no memories. Another time, he had snuck into his brother's room and found an old, black hat that looked like it had been part of an uniform. Although tight on his head, Lutz put it on and looked at himself in the mirror. He stared at his own reflection for a good ten minutes, knowing that the hat had once belonged to him.

The most recent time was just the other day, at his first World Conference. He was young, and didn't understand a word of what everyone was talking about. If he had a choice, he would stayed home with his dog, but his brother insisted dragging him along. Lutz had spent most of the hours in the loud, stuffy room looking out the window and daydreaming. The atmosphere seemed familiar now that he though about it, but it wasn't too strong. It wasn't until he looked over across the table to find someone watching him. It was a teenage boy with dark auburn hair and light purple eyes. The young man looked at Lutz up and down warily, almost mournfuly, as if he was confused as to why Lutz was even there. He sat in front of a name plaque that read _North Italy_. Lutz knew the Italian, but he didn't know from where. It had but an itch in his brain for the past few days, but no matter how much he thought about it, the memory wouldn't come to him.

Lutz sighed and stared out the window of his lesson room, more confused and stressed out than ever.

"Lutz, are you listening?"

Lutz looked back to his cousin, "Ja, Roland, I'm listening."

The gentle, black-haired Austrian raised an eyebrow at him, "Really? What was the last thing I said?"

Lutz hated that question, he could never answer it correctly, but he tried anyway, "The Roman Empire fell."

Roland's shoulders slouched slightly, "I haven't gotten to that yet."

Lutz sighed again, "Can my lesson be over then? I mean, I already know that it fell."

Roland smiled kindly, "No, you need to know _why_ it fell."

Lutz groaned, "Why?"

Roland pointed back to his map, "Well, it was mainly due to over expansion of-"

"That's not what I meant!" Lutz interrupted, "Why do I have to know this?"

"If you do not lean from history, Lutz, then history will repeat itself." The Austrian put simply, "Trust me, I have lived long enough to know."

Lutz put his head on the table as North Italy entered his mind again. _Why was he so familiar?_

"Sit up, please," Roland ordered, "So we can finish you lesson."

Lutz lifted his head, "Roland? Can I ask you a question?"

Roland looked at him for a moment, until he seemed to get the serious tone in Lutz's voice, "Of course, Lutz," He sat down in the chair on the other side of the table, "What is it?"

"Um," Lutz though for a moment, not really sure how to describe the situation he was in, until he figured out that he couldn't. Instead, he began with a different question, "Whose black hat is in Gilen's room?"

Roland tilted his head, "Black hat?"

Lutz nodded, "Ja, the tall one with gold trim?"

Roland's eyebrow pulled together for a moment before a look of realization crossed his face. The Austrian opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the door opening. When Lutz looked over to the doorway, he saw his brother Gilen.

"Guten Tag, Gilen," Roland greeted.

The Prussian said nothing as he paced over to Lutz and held out a dagger to him, handle first. A feeling of dread sat in the pit of Lutz's stomach, "Training?"

Gilian nodded.

"Gilen," Roland began kindly, earning a glare from the albino, "We are in the middle of a lesson. Perhaps you can train afterwards?"

Gilen scowled at the Austriain before putting the dagger on his belt, reaching out, taking Lutz's wrist and dragging him out of the room and towards the front door.

Lutz didn't try to get away from his brother's grasp, but he began to whine, his eyes becoming watery, "Please, Buder, I don't want to train! I want to learn lessons with Austria! I'll pay attention! I promise I won't daydream! Bitte, Bruder!"

Gilen didn't answer, he never did. Lutz had never heard his brother speak a word in his whole life, and he wondered he could speak at all. He had asked a few members in his family, but the answer differed on who you talked to. Some said that he had been mute since birth, but other said that he hadn't spoken since the Napoleonic Wars.

They were in the yard now. Gilen handed him the dagger, this time, Lutz took it, and held it just as he was taught to in ealier training. Both he and his brother took a fighting stance. Lutz lifted his sight to his brother, trying not to look scared, "Am I attacking or defending this time?"

Just as he finished his sentence, Gilen swung his own dagger towards Lutz, which he barely dodged. The blade came closer to him than what Lutz was used to, usually Gilen didn't get that close, although there had been a few close calls in the past. The surprise start had cought Lutz off balance, but just as he got his footing back, Gilen tripped Lutz with one leg and pushed him to the grass with his free hand. Lutz caught himself on his knees, took a deep breath and looked up. Gilian stood in front of him with a hand out to help him up. Lutz took the offered help, got up, and took his stance again. This went on time after time, but each time Lutz got up, Gilen was significantly harsher. By the time that training usually ended, it was almost unbearable.

Lutz tried to get up once more, but Gilen literally kicked him off balance, and he almost fell face-first into the ground, "Bruder!" Lutz scolded as he got up quicker.

Once again, Gilen said nothing and swung his dagger. Lutz wasn't ready for it, and had no time to duck or dodge, so he brought up his right arm to block it. He yelled out in pain when he felt his brother's blade slash through the skin on his arm. He looked at the cut in disbelief before looking to his brother, "Gilen!"

Gilen swung twice in row and again, it was too fast for Lutz to evade, and again, he ended up with two more gashes. He looked at his forearm, not sure what to do about the blood, but knew that it needed to be tended to, "Bru-"

Lutz was interrupted by one, last strike. This time, on the right cheek. He dropped his dagger and lifted his hand to his face. Tears falling from his eyes, he began to yell at his sadistic brother, "Bruder please, I don't understand! Why are you hurting me? What have I done wrong? This isn't fair!" Lutz continued to sob, knowing that he wasn't getting an answer.

"Fair?"

Hearing his brother's voice surprised him so much that it silenced him immediately.

Gilen spoke slowly, his voice cracked and broken fro it's lack of use, "Listen to me very carefully."

Gilen had Lutz's full attention, but his brother paused for a long time before speaking again, "I had a younger brother once… Just like you." His stoic expression changed just enough for Lutz to pick up a hint of sadness in the Prussian's face, "Exactly like you… Your hair, your eyes, your personality, it's like you're his reincarnation."

 _Reincarnation? Is that why-_

Lutz thoughts were interrupted by his brother again, "But he couldn't handle the world he was in."

There was a long moment of silence, and when it seemed that his brother wasn't going to continue, Lutz aked, "What do you mean?"

"Lutz," Gilen began, "This world will hurt you more often that not. People will cheat, trick, use, abuse, and backstab you, and there is nothing you can do to change that, people are too greedy."

"Some people are nice." Lutz argued.

"For now." Gilen said, his tone growing harsher, "Times change, and eventually your and your friend's views will change and clash. Those who were one your friends will eventually become your enemies."

"But, Bruder-"

Gilen's voice became horse as he raised his volume, "So, you better get used to being thrown down in the mud! And you better learn to get up! Or you'll end up like Holy Rome!"

Lutz was just about to protest when Gilen suddenly grabbed him and roughly threw him back to the ground, this time into a pile of mud. Not understanding what he had done wrong, Lutz began to sob again.

"Do you like that?" Gilen yelled, "Do you like that look of the mud on your hands? Do like the tatse of it in your mouth?" When Lutz didn't answer, Gilian yelled louder, "Well?"

"Nein!" Lutz screamed back, more furious than ever.

Gilen continued to yell, "What are you going to do about it? Are you going to stay in the mud? Are you going to let me treat you like this?"

"Nein!"

Gilen, somehow, made his tired voice even louder, "THEN GET UP! STRIKE A BLOW ON ME!"

Tears still running down his cheeks, Lutz grabbed the dagger on the ground, got up to his feet, and charged. Gilen swiped at him, but Lutz was ready for it and dodged, finding a perfect space that Gilen had left open. Taking his chance, Lutz jumped up and wrapped his legs around his brother's waist. With his left hand, Lutz took Gilen by his collar, and with his right, he brought down his blade right onto the Prussian's left eye.

Gilen cried out, but it seemed to be more from surprise than from pain. The albino pushed Lutz off, sending Lutz back to the ground before bringing both of his hands to his bleeding wound. After a moment, Gilen took his hands away from his face and looked at him in surprise. His eyebrow and the eye socket under his eye was bleeding, but it seemed that the eye itself was unharmed.

There was a long moment of silence between the two, until Lutz spoke. It was a simple statement, but it hatred dripped from it.

"I hope it scares."

* * *

Sorry for updating in a while! It has been a busy beginning of the year, but I am back!

Please review!


	6. Harbor

**Key:**

 **Matt: 2p Canada**

 **Allen: 2p America**

 **Warning** **: Allen uses a racial slur. This does not represent any of my own opinions. It's just how I thought he would react and it is a representation of the racism of that point in history. Do not hold it against poor Allen though, he is scared and angry.**

 **Do not send me any hate, I think I have explained this clear enough.**

 **Thank you, back to the story.**

* * *

It didn't take long for the tragic news to reach Matt. The tragic news that brought him from Ottawa all the way down to a Washington D.C. hospital. Matt was amazed by the number of guards put into the place, after all, the hospital held America, not America's president. He supposed that the personifications were important, but they are never _really_ in danger since it was so hard to kill one. So, why all the guards? To keep America safe? His life is never really in danger, he was just in pain, nothing but an illusion of the mind.

That being said, why was he even here? For a nice, brotherly gesture? He and Allen had never gotten along. The sibling rivalry was just too much in their youth. Matt hated to resort to fighting over attention, or blame any insecurities on the lack of it he had gotten, because in his mind, he knew he had a privileged childhood. Sure, France was distant father in an emotional sense, and the words "I love you" never was said, but the little gestures that the man did proved that France did love him. Then there was England, who Matt pushed away due to the constant smothering.

So really, he was privileged and loved, and Allen was jealous, which is why his twin had always been so temperamental and easy to start fights with him. God, he could remember those fights. They have always been pretty evenly matched, so the fights would be long, and neither of them would know who the winner was going to be until the end. Of course, they only got that long when England wasn't around. Otherwise the old brit would grab them by their ears and send them to their room until they were ready to (insincerely) apologize.

He swore he hated his southern brother, well until recently at least. Perhaps that's why he was here, because of how angry the tragedy had made him, and the fact that Allen was going to be pulled into another war. His government hadn't declared war yet, but they will. The feelings of anger and protectiveness of his brother was new, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't help the feeling of dread at the thought of Allen in this war that, so far was a hundred times worse than The Great War. Matt sighed, _Just when I thought humanity couldn't get any worse, it did._ A fact that always will amazed him is unlimited faith that you can lose in humanity.

There he was, his brother. He was sitting up in his bed, turned away from the door and glaring out the window as he listened to the radio go on about the bombing at Pearl Harbor. Matt expected to feel more anger at the sight of his twin, as he always did, but all the anger slipped away and became nothing but the feeling of dread.

Matt ran a hand through his hair and stepped into the room, immediately walking over to the radio and turning it off, "It's only making you feel worse."

Allen snapped his head over and reached for the radio, "Hey! I was listenin' to that!"

Before Allen could even touch it, Matt picked up the radio by its handle and set in on the floor out of reach, "You should stop listening to it." He advised.

"Oh, really?" Allen challenged, "And why would that be?"

"Because you're only going to hear the same bad news that you have been listening to for the past twelve hours." Matt stated simply.

Matt was right, even Allen admitted it, he didn't say it out loud, bit he gave up his argument after that, his expression softening and shoulders slouching, "Thanks for that. Now you got me feelin' all depressed."

Matt huffed, "Wow I didn't know you could feel something other than anger and your fake egotism."

Allen's eyes narrowed as he gave a deep scowl, "It isn't egotism and it isn't fake!" His voice raised as he continued, "And don't ya say that I don't know what it means! I'm not stupid!"

Matt sighed, "I wasn't going to say-"

Allen interrupted him, "What're ya doin' here anyways?"

"Why do you think?"

Allen looked at him up and down with a suspicious glare, "I don't know. I expected a few politicians or some reporters to visit me, but not you."

 _Politicians? Reporters?_ What a lonely man Allen turned out to be. Clearing his throat, Matt ignored his thoughts, "I'm here to welcome you into the war." He said sarcastically.

Allen rolled his eyes, "Thanks, but news flash: I'm not in the war yet!"

" _Yet."_ Matt simply quoted.

Allen gave a lost, almost fearful look before he covered it up with anger, "Well-well I hope it ends up with me enterin' the war! Mark my words, Matt," He said pointing at him, "I'll get my revenge on Japan! That damn slant-eye woke a sleeping bear, he did!"

Matt sighed again, "If you entered this war, China will be your ally."

"So?"

Matt narrowed his eyebrows at him, "I wouldn't walk around saying something as racist as 'slant-eye'."

Allen pounded his fist on the bed, "He's the one who bombed me! I can call him whatever the hell I want!"

"But that phase could refer to-" Matt cut himself off, knowing that Allen didn't really care about hurting China's feelings at the moment, "Nevermind. I'm just here to see how you're doing."

"I'm fine," Allen snapped, "You can leave now."

God that hurt, and despite his ability to hide his emotions, Matt couldn't stop the light expression of pain, "I drove for _hours_ to see you-"

Allen interrupted him, "Like you suddenly care."

Matt grinded his teeth, "Why do I even try? You know what, Allen? Our culture, history, and economies are very similar, but there is one difference between you and I, do you know what it is?"

Allen sighed in irritation, "I don't feel like havin' a lecture, but I'll humor you. What is it?"

Matt usually wasn't one to yell at others, but he let his opinion out anyway, "It's that despite the fact that you're a privileged, first-world nation, you're still an ungrateful brat!"

Allen's mouth dropped, "Now you listen here-"

Matt cut him off with a rant, "No. _You_ listen. I haven't spoken about the war with you, mainly because I don't feel like talking about it, but you don't know how lucky you are, because your situation could be a lot worse. What are you going to do? You're one of the world's superpowers! You have nothing to worry about while entering this war. England on the other hand is lucky if he _isn't_ being bombed tonight, and yet, despite all the pain he is in because of the Blitz, he still doesn't take out on the people that obviously care about him!"

There was a long moment of silence as Allen stared at him with an unreadable expression. Finally, Matt finished his point, "By the way, I pushed my government to declare war on Japan for what he did to my brother. I'll be in the Pacific soon. See you then."

Matt whirled around to storm out but stopped in his tracks when Allen called, "Wait, Matt!"

Matt took a moment to gain patience and restraint until he turned back around, "What?" He said through his teeth.

Matt was surprised to find his brother looking at him with a lost expression. Allen stayed silent for a long time, looking as if he was having second thoughts about a confession, "I've heard about what's going on in Europe. The things that have been happening there...It's in the papers and on the radio all the time…"

Allen left the sentence hanging, but Matt was still too low on patience, "What of it?"

Allen looked away for a moment, almost like he was gaining courage to say his statement, "... Don't tell Japan?" He asked before he would give anything away, "Because I really don't want anyone- especially him- to know."

Matt relaxed and took off his sunglasses so that they could have complete eye contact, hoping that it would relax Allen, "I can keep a secret, Al, you know that." He was never really good at comforting, but he thought that adding the short nickname would help Allen feel more comfortable about sharing the confession.

Allen took another long pause before whispering, "I'm scared."

Matt stood there, unbelieving that his brother admitted that, but after a moment, he nodded slowly, "I know, Al. I know." He took a deep breath, knowing that what he had to say was going to be difficult, because he had never really been good at expressing emotions, "But, that doesn't matter… Whatever happens, Al, you're my brother, and I love you… You know that, right?"

Allen looked at him for a long moment, "Yeah. Same to you. You know?"

Matt let out a breath, "Yeah."

There was a long silence between them until Matt blinked and partially turned away, "I'll see you in the Pacific, right?"

Allen shrugged, "Probably."

Matt nodded again, "See you then."

He was about to walk out when Allen called again, "Thanks."

Matt looked back at him, "You're welcome."

Once again, before he could leave, Allen said, "Stay safe!"

Matt felt himself chuckle, "Careful, Al, I might just get the feeling that you want me to stay."

Allen said nothing.

Matt continued, "I'll try. I would stick around, but you need rest, alright?"

"Alright." Allen answered, looking dejected.

Matt smile, "Hey, tell you what, I'll stay in town, get something to eat, and I'll visit again before heading back to Ottawa. How's that sound?"

Allen shrugged, "Whatever you feel like doing."

Matt let out a breath of laughter, "Get some rest. I'll see you later."

"See ya."

Matt finally turned and left the room, actually glad that he came down and visited. It was all going to be hell, but at least he wasn't going to be alone.

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry for the long wait, the end of the year had been hell. But anyways, you got the 2p North American Brothers! Finally a chapter with grown up Matt Williams! I know how popular he is in the fandom, and I had a lot of fun writing him! **Please review! I love getting them!**


	7. Approval

**Sorry for the long wait! I had a case of writer's block, But i'm back now!**

 **Key:**

 **Andres: 2P Spain**

 **Flavio: 2P Romano**

 **Luciano "Luci": 2P Italy**

 **Louis: 2P France**

* * *

Andres was the best caretaker ever!

Flavio had bounced from one person to the next for as long as he could remember, but it was Andres that he really liked. There had not been anything wrong with any other of his past caretakers. He even liked Rome, though he was mean, but Flavio figured that the man was just confused, had some inner-demons to deal with, or perhaps something happened to him while he was working and expanding. To Flavio, it wasn't his grandfather's fault, some other outside power.

Then, Rome died, his land was up for grabs, and that included Flavio. Because of this, he spent some time with Austria and his little brother Luci, which was very nice because Austria was so kind and he always made good sweets. But, one day, Austria sat him down and told him the Luciano seemed to be dealing with a lot, especially aggressive issues, and it would be better for him if Flavio stayed with someone else while Austria tended to his little brother. So, he went to his big brother, Andres, a man who he hadn't seen since they were little children under Rome.

Andres was the best because of how kind he was. He wasn't one to smile or say affectionate things, but he would do these little things everyday that would make Flavio happy, come home from work and make dinner and… Well, he did other things, too, Flavio just couldn't think of them at the moment. He was just too focused on staring out the window, waiting for his brother to come home, and _Mio Dio_ , was he going to be surprised when he did, because Flavio cleaned the whole house while he was gone.

Flavio closed his eyes. He could see it now. Andres would walk in as see the clean house, and he would say: " _Wow, Flavio, you cleaned the whole house!"_ Then Andres would pat his head with a little sideways smirk and say: " _Good job, Chico, I'm proud of you!"_

The front door opened, scaring Flavio out of his daydream and making him jump. When he looked over, he saw exactly who he expected to see, Andres. Flavio immediately hopped off the furniture and stood in the middle of the living area, a huge smile on his face. When Andres didn't as much as give him a glance, he spoke first, "Buonasera!"

Andres walked further into the house, setting some bags on the floor, "I don't speak Italian." He said in monotone. It wasn't true, but it was a prompt to practice his Spanish.

Flavio bounced on the balls of his feet as he looked up, trying to remember the phrase, "Oh, um… I mean, buena noches!"

Andres gave a nod of approval before turning and heading to the hallway, but before he left, Flavio wanted him to know about the work he did while his big brother was away, "Hey, brother? Do you notice anything different?"

Andres turned back before regarding him for a moment, "You're not as annoying as yesterday?"

Flavio chuckled, Andres' jokes were always so funny, "No, silly! I cleaned the house!"

Andres gave a quick look around him before shrugging, "Oh, thanks." And with that, he left down the hallway and went into his room.

Flavio felt his smile drop. One thing that made Andres difficult was that it was very hard to impress the him, and Flavio strived for his approval, as well as everyone else's.

That was when Flavio realized something, he had forgotten to water the plants. He would do that tomorrow, then Andres would be happy.

* * *

Flavio watered the plants, but he had to remember that with Andres, he must give more effort, or he wouldn't be happy, and when Andres wasn't happy, he wasn't happy. So, he decided to go out and tend to the tomato garden. It wasn't really his job to do that, but going out of the way to do someone else's work was a huge gesture. Besides, he liked the chore.

It was nice to be out in the sun, but Andres was going to be home soon, so he should head inside. Once in, he made a beeline to the kitchen and sat down at the table. He spent about fifteen minutes arranging and rearranging some tomatoes in a large bowl before pushing them to the center of the table and waiting.

It wasn't long before Flavio heard Andres walk in the house, down the hallway, and into his room before he came out a few minutes later, and making his way into the kitchen. Flavio sat there with a smile, his hands clasped on the table as he bounced in his chair. Andres didn't look at him, so Flavio greeted him, not forgetting to speak Spanish, "Hola, big brother!"

Andres only grunted in reply as he took a tomato out of the bowl and bit into it, then walking to the other side of the kitchen, taking out pots and pans so he could make dinner. Flavio tapped his fingers on the table, "So, I watered the plants today."

"Okay." Andres mumbled expressionlessly.

"And-and I took care of the tomatoes!" Flavio informed the Spaniard, "I cut the dead vines and picked the ripe-looking ones and everything!"

Andres took another bit out of his tomato and set it aside, "Okay." He said again, chopping up vegetables.

Flavio deflated again. What had he done? Did he forget something? He suddenly got a great idea when he thought of the question: _What else could I do for him?_

* * *

Andres loved carnations, despite the tough man he was, those flowers were his soft spot. So after doing his work one day and someone else's the next, he decided to buy something nice for him. This would really wrap up the week in a nice little bow.

Flavio put the vase on the table and angled it where it would look perfect when Andres entered the room and waited, again. And again, Andres walked into the house, went into his room, and came into the kitchen. To Flavio's pleasure, he seemed to notice the carnations instantly. He walked up to the table, staring at them, a hint of interest in his eyes, "Where did you get these?"

"The market." Flavio stated simply.

Andres' eyes narrowed ashe lifted his sight, "You're not supposed to go out alone."

Flavio looked down at the table, not wanting to see his brother's scowl, "Yeah, but they're really nice, and you like them. Plus, you don't take me out much."

Andres' expression of irritation grew to anger, "That doesn't matter! It's dangerous out there for a little country like you! You could have been kidnapped. God knows that France wants you as his underling!"

"His name is Louis, and he's your brother!" Flavio pointed out.

Andres pointed at him, his face twisted in fury at Flavio's statement. He opened and closed his mouth, stumbling on his words through his anger before he finally shouted, "He is _not_ my brother, and he isn't yours either! I don't want to hear you say that _ever again!"_

Flavio tightened his hands into fists and resisted the urge to cry as he wondered what could have possibly happened between the two for Andres to say that. There was a long moment before Andres sighed and looked off, "I have paperwork to do. There should be enough for you to snack on." Then, he left.

How come he always messes up everything? Doesn' matter, because Andres said something that gave Flavio an idea of how to fix everything.

* * *

Flavio climbed onto Andres' desk chair and looked down at the large stack of papers. The papers were crammed with words and phrases that he didn't understand, but that was fine, he could figure it out.

He found out that he was on the right track the other day by doing someone else's work in the tomato garden, but the problem was that it wasn't Andres' work that he was doing. If he did Andres' work, then the Spaniard would have more time to relax. Flavio could imagine just how relieved Andres would be when he found out that eh didn't have more work when he came home.

Flavio observed the papers, and quickly learned that most of the words we pre-written, the rest was just Andres' signature in the black spots. Most of the spots were filled, but some it would seem that he forgot to put his signature on. So, fill in the blank spots, he could do that.

Flavio took the quill, dipped it into the ink, and signed Andres' name on the first forgotten blank, be careful to make it look just like the real thing. It was a little different, but Andres could just tell his boss that he forgot some parts, and was rushed to finish it. Then he went to the next one, and then the next, and the next. He sat there for hours, turning the pages, and signing away until he signed the last blank on the last page. When it was complete, it was almost time for his brother to come home, and Flavio had never been more excited.

He was on the furniture when Andres came home. "Hola, big brother!" He greeted, practically bouncing in his seat.

"Hola." He said, not bothering to look over at him. Then, as usual, he went into his room, and Flavio waited anxiously, until he heard Andres yell, "Flavio! Ven aquí!"

The tone in his brother's voice made his stomach drop, never, had Andres yelled at him that loud. Knowing that delaying his arrival would make it worse, he quickly made his way to Andres room. There he found his brother standing there with the paperwork, his eyes wide with fury, "What did you do?"

Flavio stumbled on his words, "I-I, uh, signed your name, so-o you didn't ha-ve work when you came home."

Andres stomped his foot, "I have told you to never touch my paperwork! Do you know what this is?"

Flavio looked down at the floor, "No."

"These are official documents for the government! I sign where I agree! This affects the country and its territories!" Andres explained, "And you signed my name on everything! Things like this could cause revolutions! Revlots! Economic depressions! The list goes on and on!"

Flavio could feel tears stream down his face, "I was just trying to help. I just want to help."

"I told you when I took you in that I would take care of everything!" Andres yelled in frustration, "What? Do you not trust me?"

Flavio shook his head, "I trust you."

Andres rolled his eyes, "Then why do you want to help me?"

Flavio could contain it anymore, so he shouted back, his crying becoming worse, "Because I want you to like me as much as I like you!"

Andres scoffed, "Like you? You;re a country! Get used to people not liking you! Including me!"

Oh god that hurt, and now he was sobbing. He wiped some of his tears away, "But, brother, I love you!"

"You are my underling, not my brother, now get out of my sight!" Andres shouted back.

Flavio did what he was told. He went into his room and didn't come out. He cried until his stomach hurt, and eventually, cried himself to sleep.

* * *

Flavio woke up to the morning sun shining in his window. He st up and rubbed the crust out of his eyes, wondering if he should even get out of bed today. That was when something caught his eye, and when he looked over, he saw a single carnation with a letter under it. He picked up the flower and smelling it before turning his attention to the note and reading it carefully.

 _Flavio,_

 _I am traveling to a world meeting in Prussia, if you do not remember, and I will see you again in a few weeks._

 _I am sorry for my outburst last night. Work is very stressful, and the life of a country sucks when you're my age, I pented-up my anger, and took it out on you, and for that I am sorry, because you didn't deserve it, you're a good kid, and thank you for the nice things you do. You took off cleaning the house on my to-do list, you're good at picking out tomatoes, and the carnations were beautiful._

 _When I come back home, I want you to think of something that I could do to make this up to you. I will see you then._

 _Your brother,_

 _Andres_

Flavio smiled as happy tears stung his eyes and he hugged the carnation close to him, "It's okay, Andres," He whispered to the flower, "I forgive you."

* * *

 **Note:**

 **Once again, I am sorry for my absence! Writer's block and classes were kicking my ass, but I know what the next chapter is going to be, and hopefully my schedule is nice to me in the future!**


	8. Sad Note

Hello, Hetalians.

This is an important authors note, for I have some unfortunate news. I will not be continuing this story.

I have a few reasons for this, I'm not deciding this out of the blue. First off, I started the fic too early, and that resulted is many writer's blocks, poor planning of chapters, and my worst writing, if you liked this fic, then go back a read any of my others, they are a lot better. There were only two chapters that I liked, and that was "Papa" and "Harbor", which says a lot because I usually don't hate that much of my own story.

Second reason, I have lost the excitement, motivation, and passion to this story. Every time I update, it's like a chore, and I don't want to write something because I feel like I _have_ to. Fanfiction is a hobby, I rather do it because it's fun.

Lastly, because of the little knowledge I have. Once upon a time, in America, there was this thing that I can thank Clinton and Bush for, The No Child Left Behind Act. This was a education movement that focused of math and reading. It was a good plan on paper, for it countered the previous act that focused on Math and Science because of the Space Race, but it was executed very poorly, and it saturated all the other subjects. So, my American readers can recall the fact that they could probably read a AP England textbook, and do complicated math by the 7th grade, but all they don't know how the government works, and they don't know world history _to this day_.

We gained independence from England in 1776 (wrong, we _declared_ it, but it wasn't accomplished until the end of the Rev War), we were the worst human beings to exist until Abe Lincoln abolished slavery, oh, and btw the world wars were a thing. That's what we learned. And we wonder why we're annoying to other nations. I have learned a lot more in college, and even more with Hetalia, but it doesn't amount to good education in early years. I know a lot about Western European history, but little about Eastern Europe. I wanted to get a diversity of characters, and although I could probably throw a few chapters about the Nordics in here, I couldn't do anything more with Poland, the Baltic, Russia and his sisters, let alone the Asian countries. I could do research, but I don't have the time, or motivation to do it for this story.

I am very sorry. I did have an idea for another few chapters. This one was supposed to be about the Miracle of Dunkirk, a touching story between the English and French in WWII that I only know about because of the fandom. I saw some fanart once a long time ago that represented the event, and after researching a little, I have to say, it's one of my favorite moments in history. A past enemy reaching out to the other in a time of need like that restores some faith in humanity. Another was going to be Norway and Iceland meeting for the first time, and another was going to be with America and Lithuania in the roaring 20's. But, maybe I'll come out with a oneshot or two outside of this story if I get the chance to.

I will still be writing my other stories, so if you are following _Patience_ and _Fall of the Great_ , don't worry, I'll be continuing those. I update my stories in a cycle, so I will be coming out with a oneshot featuring England in a WWII human AU soon, then I will move on to _Fall of the Great_ , then _Patience_ , then I will start another full story. I have two that I feel confident enough to start, I just have to pick one.

Again, I am very sorry, but thank you for sticking with my rather inconsistent updates, and for the reviews I have gotten.

~Happy reading and fandom hugs!


End file.
